


Pull Me Out Alive

by XxHazelHeartsxX



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parent, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dark fic!, Derek Has Issues, Eventual Smut, Isaac Is Stiles' Younger Brother, M/M, Prostitute Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Supportive Scott, Trigger Warnings, Vulnerable Derek, not too graphic though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxHazelHeartsxX/pseuds/XxHazelHeartsxX
Summary: All Stiles really wanted to do was forget it ever happened. He taught himself to never expect more from his life and he most definitely didn't want his feelings to ever come in his way. Obviously, his heart had other plans.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, so, the theme is dark and I really don't want to hurt anyone so please read the warnings before you begin the story. I don't really know what I'm doing here...I'll just keep going with the flow but this idea has been nagging me forever and I finally decided to type it down. Please review. Constructive criticism is welcome. For those who read my other story- Sacrifice- it'll be updated soon. Hopefully.   
> Thanks for not giving up on me just yet and let me know what you think.   
> TATA!

 

“Don’t worry kid. Last time I checked, I’m clean.”

Blake spoke from where he was wiping himself clean with a towel, wrapping it around his waist before walking forward. He pushed one of his hands through his wet hair and tucked the towel with the other. He even had a smirk on and Stiles desperately wished he could just punch him right there and then. _Just fucking once_.  He had dealt with far more convincing and manipulative clients before but even they didn’t dare to breach his contract the way Blake had.

Stiles only scoffed and shook his head, anger bubbling up inside him. He nervously rubbed his hands against each other, elbows resting on his knees, trying his best to conceal the fear underlying his current behavior.

“Is that what you said to the guy you fucked before me?” 

His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he gritted out.

He was fully clothed now, clad in his plain white t-shirt and jeans, hair disheveled and in need of a desperate wash. He stood up from where he was sitting on the bed and swallowed the pained wince that was evoked with the movement. The dull ache of his lower body had become a constant feeling for him but today it hurt more. It just did. His clients were well-aware of the conditions he put forward every time he was called in. They had to stay safe. That was the only one thing he was very specific about. That…and the fact that their lips weren’t allowed anywhere near his mouth and Blake had ignored the former just for his own pathetic pleasure.

Without  Stiles’ _consent_.

The realization struck something inside him and a shiver ran up his spine. He gulped in a large amount of air.

Screw the payment, he really just wanted to get out of here now.

Blake’s jaw flexed as he walked closer with a similar glint in his eyes; the same terrifying one that Stiles was introduced to seconds before he was split open in one swift, painful motion without warning and enough preparation. No preparation- physical pain- he could deal with but the way his heartbeat had rocketed during the unexpected intrusion, arms pinned against his sides and back pressed against the mattress - his fingers unknowingly ghosted over the bruise that was beginning to form on his wrist.

He gently pressed the region and red hot pain spiked in his arm, making him jump.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t ya?"

 Blake was dangerously close to him now, his breath hot against Stiles’ ear, making his hair stand and not in a good way. He instinctively took a frantic step back when the larger man’s firm hand found its way to his crouch, rubbing shamelessly while latching onto his neck, licking and sucking the region with fervor.

Stiles stood firm in his resolve, breaths coming out in quick angry pants- because his ribs were hurting now; probably a sign of more bruises-  and simply jerked his head away from the nauseating sensation , bending down to grab his jacket. He tipped his head backward, challenging Blake with a hint of satisfaction, nose flaring with the onslaught of too many revolting emotions but still trying to mask it.

It worked somehow and Blake raised his hands in surrender, “Alright, okay…” He bent forward and grabbed his wallet hidden between the tangle of sheets, purposely counting the cash stuffed inside it, fingers sliding over every dollar bill with exaggerated movements.

Stiles just stood there, disbelief and pain etched over his face. He felt something crush inside him and every ounce of dignity and confidence left his body as he visibly deflated, feeling tears pool inside his eyes. This was his life now.

“Take this…extra money for extra fun.”

Blake handed him the cash emotionlessly as if he had not just slapped Stiles in the face with reality. Stiles rose his hand hesitantly but a wide, fake grin spread across his face nevertheless. His pride couldn’t pay for his brother’s tuition fee, the thought crossed his mind and in an instant, he steeled himself further.

“Or..”  Blake pulled back the cash suggestively, grinning back at him. “I could just give you double the amount..” He ran his hand down against Stiles’ head and forcefully grabbed the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb over a spot behind his ear.

A lump blocked Stiles’ windpipe as he was pushed down slightly. He thought for a second to offer resistance, really how much lower could he droop? The image of his brother flashed in front of his eyes and suddenly he couldn’t care any less for himself. He took a shuddering breath and simply closed his eyes, letting himself drop down to his knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Derek was tired. His clothes were stuck to his body, beads trickling down the back of his neck. His tank top was soaked, arms glistening and forehead dotted with sweat as he pushed himself up, _sixty nine_ , he counted in his head. His muscles were screaming in agony, every fiber in his body begging for him to stop the physical torture.

“ _I don’t know why Talia loved you so much…all you’ve done is ruin her life…you killed her…you and your pathetic_ …”

A growl left his mouth when he suddenly struggled with the effort, arms shaking violently as he went down for another push up. The words kept echoing in his head, the disgust and menace in every syllable directed towards him managing to cut through his heart, reopening his wounds and leaving more scars. His breathing was ragged, air barely reaching his lungs but he kept going, scrunching his eyes tight to shut out all memories, all thoughts, _everything_.

His father was drinking again, drowning in his pain and grieving for the loss of his wife but she was also Derek’s mother- he loved her more than he could ever love someone and she was snatched away from him, gone in only a matter of seconds- how could his dad never get that?

The sound of glass shattering somewhere outside his room suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts and he jumped up slightly, letting go of his arms and tiredly slumping down on his knees. He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying fruitlessly to slow down his heart rate. His hands trembled slightly with both exertion and fear- more childhood memories resurfacing, making him want to curl around himself and cry through the night- like he had done several times in his life before. But he wasn’t weak now. He could deal with this. He was stronger than this.

“Fuck…fuck...fuck!” Faint grunts- accompanied with loud thumps- echoed in the otherwise silent house as more glass shattered. His father was throwing around furniture, cursing and smashing all their family photographs, making it void of things that reminded him of his wife.  The choked sob that resonated in the house broke something inside Derek and his confidence dissipated.

Push-ups. More push-ups. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, blocking away the storm of negative thoughts threatening to engulf him. His mind kept wandering off to the noises slicing through the darkness and he found himself struggling. His breathing quickened and he realized that he couldn’t do this.

With not many options and the smallest hints of a panic attack slowly creeping in on him, he got up, pulling over his jacket and zipping it with trembling fingers.  It took him a second to balance his footing before he was grabbing his car keys, sneaking out of his house as quickly as he could without coming into his father’s notice. With a small click and shaky breath, he closed the main door. Then he ran.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles rinsed his mouth with water, gurgling violently- enough to scratch his throat- before spitting into the sink. He fiercely wiped his mouth off with his arm in one swift movement and held onto the sink to keep the contents of his stomach down, his throat burning a little. He gagged for the second time and closed his mouth, snapping his hand over his lips with force, trying to forget about the taste in his mouth.

Having recovered from the nausea, he splashed water on his face once, twice, thrice before slowly running his hands down on his shirt, straightening the creases. His eyes were blank, face unreadable as he stared into the mirror, frowning at his own reflection. This wasn’t him anymore. The guy who knew what self-respect was had died long ago. He was only a walking shell now.

“Yeah honey, I can’t wait..” Blake’s voice pulled him out of his trance-like state and he turned around to glance in the direction of the sound. The larger man’s words were muffled as he lightly knocked at the bathroom door from the other side and Stiles realized that he was trying to get his attention on purpose.

Blake was on the phone with his wife and Stiles’ mind was running a mile per second and no…he wasn’t going to make a snarky comment. Not now. Now, he really just wanted to lock himself in the confines of his own room and sleep.

He shuddered at his own thoughts and swallowed hardly. He was getting carried away. Splashing water on his face once more, he walked out, nodding when Blake motioned him to hurry, still talking to his wife, “How long before you get here?”

Stiles pulled a face and shook his head, grabbing his jacket hung on the nearby chair. He almost winced when Blake slapped his hand into his abdomen- knuckles shoved into the nasty bruise covering the left side of his chest. Money was crumpled between his fingers, eyes simmering with rage as he glared into Stiles’ face.

“Get out now.” He gritted out, squeezing Stiles’ arm tight before shoving him away like he was burned.

Stiles slipped the money into his pocket with shaky hands.

“I love you too honey…”

That was the last thing he heard before he slammed the door shut behind him, never turning around to look back at the part of himself that he had lost forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Derek’s hand tightened on the steering wheel as he raced through the silent roads, knuckles turning white with the force he was exerting. He pushed on the accelerator, staring straight ahead, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the rest of the world whizzed away from the corner of his eyes. He breathed in large amounts of air, chest rising before he frantically exhaled. His lungs were still drowning and he couldn’t control his heart as it tried to beat its way out of his chest, pounding mercilessly against his ribcage.

His phone buzzed and his eyes unintentionally flitted towards the object placed on the passenger seat. He narrowed his eyes and read the name flashing over the screen.

_Laura_

His mind contemplated for an instant and his jaw flexed with the hurricane of emotions. Of course she’d call to check up on him. With a loud sigh, his eyes fluttered shut for only a second, shoulders visibly relaxing.

Suddenly, the sound of something crashing against the bonnet of his car pulled him out of his reverie and he was nearly thrown off his seat as he pushed on the brakes, ears ringing with the echo of the tires screeching to a halt.

Not bothering to sit back down, he tumbled out, falling directly onto his knees, hands finding refuge in the solid floor beneath him. His legs were shaking with panic as he summoned all his strength to stand back up, blinking his eyes over and over to look through the fog-filled night, the intense beam of headlights illuminating the ground below.

His breath hitched when he saw what he had hit. A considerable distance away from the car, he could clearly distinguish the outline of a figure sprawled across the ground. A heap of long, gangly limbs and…short, dark hair. 

He moved closer, taking cautious steps forward, hoping- wishing- that the mystery figure was alive. Almost as if in response, the body groaned and Derek almost sagged forward in relief, his feet picking pace as he all but ran towards the source of the sound.

“You okay?” He quickly knelt down beside the…man and gently shook him by his shoulder. His frantic question was immediately responded with a pained wince and Derek bit his lip in guilt, eyes blown wide with panic.

“Are you okay?” He forced the words out of his mouth, unable to prompt his brain to say anything else and simply held his breath.

A pained frown appeared on the stranger’s forehead before finally, one torturous second after another, his eyes fluttered open.  Derek breathed out another sigh of relief, one that he hadn’t known he was holding in for so long. Quickly, he assessed the body for any visible injuries and…the ground for a puddle of blood or anything even closer to a tiny drop, finding none. There was a scratch on the visible part of the man’s arm but even that looked superficial.

_Internal injuries_. His mind provided and he quickened in his actions once again.

“Can you move?” He asked when the man groaned again, this time raising his head slightly while blinking to… probably adjust to the intense light of the headlights jabbing his senses. _Crap_. Hissing apologetically, Derek moved forward on his knees, blocking the path of light. 

The stranger’s  confused gaze wandered about in all directions before he was staring directly into Derek’s eyes…and Derek had never seen...amber with webs of darker brown...he had never seen eyes so beautiful but with a frown he noticed, they looked lifeless.

He gently gripped the man’s elbow and helped him sit up. Uncharacteristic concern bubbled inside his chest when he noticed his pale complexion, almost as if the blood had been drained out of his body, making his cheekbones and moles more prominent. His skin was cold to the touch and Derek’s mind reeled off to oh so many possible explanations of why this stranger was here in the middle of the night. Above all that, with only a thin layer of clothing covering his frail body.

“Get off me!” Derek stilled when the stranger shoved his hand away, pulling aggressively at his own sleeves, trying to feign irritation but Derek could see right through it- the way his fingers trembled, he was clearly in pain. His voice was hoarse, lips chapped and dry.

“Sorry…I just…are you okay?” Derek stuttered, helpless and lost.

The man was standing now and much to Derek’s concern, he simply dusted his clothes off with his hands and hid them in his jacket pockets, walking away, clearly not a fan of words.

“Listen...let me take you to a hospital. There could be internal injuries.” The last bit was not intentional. He really wanted to help this guy.

“I said I was fine.”

The words were obviously lacking heat and Derek knew exactly why. He took a few steps towards the younger man nevertheless. With the way his lanky legs wobbled and shoulders hunched upwards, Derek knew it was a fruitless effort to minimize the pain.

Also the audible gasping with every movement was painful to even listen to. This guy obviously didn’t care about himself and that seemed to intrigue Derek even more.

“Please, let me at least drive you home…I mean your house.” He didn’t even know why he cared so much but he just couldn’t leave, not without knowing for sure that the stranger was fine.

The younger man just kept walking away, not bothering to even consider Derek's offer.

Derek walked a good few meters behind the younger man when he noticed that something was wrong. The man had stopped walking and was swaying terribly in his place. A small whimper escaped his lips as he leaned onto the fence nearby and that seemed to be the last straw for Derek who ran to his help.

Luckily, he reached just in time to catch the stranger as he fell.

 


End file.
